


Storming the Fort

by pocketcucco



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketcucco/pseuds/pocketcucco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham realizes too late that he can only escape the Bulldog's wintertime fort by swimming across that damned lake - so it's a good thing Ziio decided to wait around for him after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storming the Fort

**Author's Note:**

> I remember someone posting a prompt somewhere (tumblr probably) about a scene between Haytham and Ziio taking place after he leaves the Braddock's fort and has to swim back to shore. I thought about it for a long time but I didn't really have an idea until this morning...and someone's probably done this by then, but the idea stuck with me for so long that I had to sit down and write it. I absolutely love writing interactions between Haytham and Ziio anyway, so...! (They are my favorite AC OTP, and they didn't get nearly enough scenes together in the game, sobs)

Storming one of the Bulldog's forts in the frigid cold of winter was looking less and less like a productive idea. Though Haytham  _had_ managed to get his hands on the information he needed, and he'd also disabled a few of the fort's cannons to boot.

What he'd failed to consider was his escape – at least until one of those blasted soldiers saw his shadow as he crept across the grounds, darting from one of the wispy, yellowing bushes to the safety of a tree.

"Show yourself!" the soldier shouted, and Haytham lowered himself nearly to his knees. The tree was big enough that it would hide him for now, but if the soldier came around...

Heavy, booted footsteps crunched through the snow. Haytham tensed to run - or, perhaps, to fight - but the noise stopped. What was the soldier doing? He longed to peer from his hiding place, but he knew from past experience that one wrong move was all it would take for him to be discovered. Instead he held himself as still as possible, hands pressed to the rough bark, spine rigid and straight, holding his breath so the puffs of white wouldn't give him away...

The footsteps retreated. Haytham allowed himself to breathe a quick sigh of relief before he pulled away from the tree and continued his trek across the fort.

The front gates were closed - had been since the supply wagon rolled to a stop in the middle of the grounds. Haytham couldn't rely on them for his escape. There were gaps in the walls, though - spaces for the now-defunct cannons to fire. He made his way toward those, keeping low, hoping his dark clothing would hide him as he moved. Thank goodness he and Ziio had planned this mission for after nightfall.

He came to the gaps, ready to breathe a second sigh of relief - and stopped.

Here, the fort dropped away to a sheer cliff and the lake beyond.

Haytham cursed rather loudly.

Any other time of the year, he would have thrown himself over the side and dove easily under the water without a second thought. Doing that tonight would be tantamount to suicide, what with the snowflakes swirling around his face and the ice clinging to his lashes. The lake below was almost menacing, dyed an inky black and smooth as a mirror, even with the lightly falling snow.

Haytham looked back over his shoulder. There were no other cannon gaps, and the gates were still resolutely closed and guarded by more soldiers. It was a miracle they didn't see him now, poised over this watery abyss.

He turned back to the lake. There were no other options; this was well and truly his only escape.

He gripped the wood walls of the fort tighter. If he survived this... No. No ifs. He  _had_ to survive. He'd been trained to endure pains like this.

Haytham jumped before he could convince himself otherwise.

The cold cut at him like a thousand knives. It immediately soaked through his clothes, right down to the skin - he imagined it went through to his bones, what with the way it stung. God in Heaven, he hadn't ever felt a cold like  _this_. One part of his brain was screaming at him to stop, to pull off the heavy clothing that was weighing him down, while the other told him to just  _swim_ , to swim like he'd never in his entire life.

Haytham's arms cleaved the water, pulling him closer to the shore. He was breathing so hard it felt as though his lungs might burst - if they didn't freeze completely first. For some time he was afraid his entire body might freeze solid, and for a moment he imagined himself turning to ice and sinking to the bottom of this damnable lake; but after a while he went numb. Not a good sort of numb - not the kind that would block out the pain and the cold. No, he was still aware of that - painfully so. Instead he felt heavy, and he felt numb, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his warm bed back in Boston with a fire going beside him.

It felt like ages before his feet finally touched down on the lakebed beneath. And then Haytham was stumbling forward, weighed down by his sodden clothing, hands grasping at air and then snow. It took him a few moments to realize that he'd stumbled and fallen, that he could feel again, and that his entire body felt as though it was on fire. He was shivering so violently that he thought his teeth might chip and break apart.

A figure emerged from the brush. A soldier? Had they seen him swimming away from the fort? Haytham glanced up, and through shaking eyes he thought he saw Ziio.

"Fool," she muttered, kneeling beside him. "Did you swim back?"

"I-I had-d no ch-choice," he said.

The woman sighed fiercely. "Come. I made a camp. We can take care of you there."

We? he wondered, briefly, but Ziio was pulling him to his feet and dragging him through the woods. He could barely feel her hand, even though she was touching the bare skin of his own.

Ziio's camp was, fortunately, not far from the lake, but hidden well enough among the undergrowth that he doubted the soldiers at the fort would find it easily. A small fire was roaring in its center, and Haytham made his way to it like a hungry man to a supper table.

Ziio moved around him in a slow circle. "You will need to remove those clothes," she said, nodding to his soaking – almost frozen – cape and heavy coat. They were weighing him down, but for the moment he could focus on nothing but the inviting warmth of the fire.

Haytham gave her a look. "Most certainly not."

"Would you prefer to die?"

He considered this for a moment. In that time, Ziio pulled a thick pelt from nearby (he noticed now that she had set up a sleeping place – how long was she planning to stay here?) and held it out to him.

"Cover yourself in this. Do not worry – I will turn around," she said, and a tiny smirk graced her lips. Haytham was too disgruntled to appreciate it, but he reached out and took the pelt all the same.

"Well, go on then," he said, and she turned her back to him and busied herself with tending to the fire.

Haytham pulled at his clothing with numb, fumbling fingers. By then some of it was already covered in a thin layer of frost and ice – how quickly it had frozen! Again, he imagined the same happening to his body. He set the icy clothing aside and, still shivering, donned the pelt. It was heavy, but surprisingly warm and comfortable. He settled himself back in front of the fire, and Ziio took the rest of his clothes and hung them beside the flames.

"Take care not to place them too close," he said, and she gave him a look.

"Your precious hat will be just fine," she told him. He noticed with a twinge of anger that she placed it even closer to the flames. On purpose, most likely, given that she flashed another smile in his direction as she stepped away and took her place across from him.

"I retrieved the map," Haytham said, nodding to his clothes. "It is most likely waterlogged by now, but I memorized the information beforehand."

"What do you remember?"

"Braddock has left to rally his troops. They are marching on Fort Duquesne. It will be a while yet before they are ready, which gives us time to form a plan."

Ziio thought for a moment, staring into the flames. "No need," she said. "We will ambush them by the river. Gather your allies – I will do the same. I will send word when it is time to strike."

"You are leaving now?"

She shook her head. "No. I would feel guilty later if I abandoned you here to freeze."

"I can take care of myself."

"Then why did you sound so troubled when you thought I was leaving?"

Haytham scowled, but there was little he could say to that. Her presence right now was comforting – almost as much as the fire, which was slowly warming his frigid bones. The numbness was slowly melting away, replaced with a dull pain, though he knew it would be some time before he felt whole again. He was still shivering, and his muscles ached horribly from the effort.

"Thank you," he said. "This is the second time tonight that you have helped me."

"The first?"

"In the tavern. After the fight."

She nodded, glancing at his cut cheek. "I could not just leave you to die."

"A bloody cheek is nothing that would kill me-"

"The lake, I mean."

"Ah. Yes. Thank you, again."

"Why did you swim? Why not escape the way you came?"

"The gates were closed and guarded. I would have been outnumbered if it came to a fight."

"You could not use your stealth?"

"I would have had to take the guards out anyway. The lake seemed an easier route."

"Was it?"

This time he couldn't hide his dry chuckle. "Hardly. I knew it was a terrible decision the moment I touched the water."

Ziio returned his grin with one of her own. "So it seems. You were shaking so hard I thought you might break apart."

"I nearly did. I am lucky you were here with me. If you had left…"

"I am glad I stayed," she admitted, her voice quiet. "But next time you might not be so lucky. Take care of yourself in the future."

"I doubt I am so foolish that I would try something like this again."

This time, they both laughed. Haytham could feel himself warming more now, and in more ways than one.

"It would probably not be a good idea for me to stay here the night, given the condition I am in," he said after a pause. "Once I'm ready, I will head back to the tavern. What of you?"

"I will move on. Preparation for our attack will take time, and I cannot waste any more."

"Very well. I trust I will hear from you soon?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Good."

Haytham wrapped the pelt tighter around his shoulders. He was not ready to leave – not just yet, anyway. His body was still cold, and it would take some more time before he felt well enough to start the long trek back through the snowy woods.

In the meantime, he thought, it would not hurt to get to know Ziio – his new battle partner and companion – a little better.


End file.
